


Can't Afford To Care

by vondrostes



Series: Texas Fic [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Biting, Bottom Harry, Caning, Cock Warming, Come Eating, Comeplay, Harry Styles has a pain kink, Impact Play, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Painplay, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Restraints, Rimming, Spanking, Spit Kink, Sub Harry, Subspace, harry hires a professional dom to wreck him: the movie, hole spanking, not really but it's the closest tag i can find
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 08:49:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15904938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: “You want someone to be mean to you?” Texas questioned.Styles finally lifted his eyes to meet Texas’s curious gaze. “Not mean, but, I want someone to hurt me. Really hurt me.” His voice was a bit more confident now, his gaze unflinching.“I can do that.”





	Can't Afford To Care

**Author's Note:**

> This is very new territory for me in a lot of ways, so please be gentle.  
> In this fic, Harry hires a professional dom to do a scene involving impact play. There is a ton of negotiation, a lot of technicalities, and a hefty amount of smut.
> 
> Disclaimers: I have never been nor hired a professional dom and everything within this fic should be taken with a massive grain of salt.
> 
> Warnings: impact play (spanking, caning, hole spanking), pain play (overstimulation, biting), rough sex, gross sex possibly? involving bodily fluids (spit, sweat, semen), very graphic depictions of body parts & sexual acts
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

Texas chose his name his first semester of college, after he’d first been introduced to the scene by his first real sugar mama. She was the third he’d tried it with, but the first to get more than one date. He was from Tennessee, not Texas, but when Gloria had told him in bed one morning that he reminded her of a sweet down-home Texas boy, it had stuck.

A lot of things Gloria had given him had stuck.

Texas was Texas to pretty much everyone now, with the exception of his family back home, who he really didn’t see all-too often after the truth had gotten out about his profession. He didn’t let people take videos anymore after that, even though it was too-little too-late.

He’d gotten into professional domming about a month after moving to Berlin, shortly after he’d graduated from NYU with a worthless degree and an even more worthless bank account. He’d found someone to sponsor him easily enough using the connections he’d built back in the States and transitioning to the scene in Berlin had been practically seamless.

Texas enjoyed his job more than most people, he wagered. He got paid to get people off, and he usually got off himself in the process. Win-win.

But sometimes it wasn’t always a walk in the park. He was well-known enough that he got his fair share of sketchier clients, and he knew by now how to recognize the red flags.

The email sitting in his inbox set off every single one. Texas opened it anyway.

The curiosity was too strong to resist. Texas was a bit of a risk-taker, which wasn’t the best personality trait for someone in his line of work, but he’d survived okay so far on gut-instinct.

The first major problem was the lack of any kind of identifying information in the email. Second was the omission of secondary contact details. Third was the absolutely ludicrous pay-offer for an overnight stay, something Texas usually only agreed to for established clients.

But if the offer was real, it was a _lot_ of money. And Texas liked money.

He emailed back immediately. And that’s when things really started to get weird.

After confirming he was serious, Texas was given a phone number. When he called, a woman answered, identifying herself as a representative for his prospective client. She was coolly impersonal, which only made him more nervous about this whole deal, but once she confirmed that Texas would receive an advance on the agreed-upon payment as soon as he as he underwent STI testing and submitted a clean bill of health.

That was too much temptation for Texas to withstand.

There was a pre-determined date given to him by the woman on the phone: a Friday night two weeks from then. Texas was not to learn his client’s identity until they met in person at their hotel.

He was curious though, and determined, so as soon as the phone call ended, he was on his computer, furiously Googling every celebrity, business mogul, and politician who was expected to make an appearance in Berlin in the near future. It was unsurprisingly a big list and Texas came away disappointed and antsier than ever to find out the mystery client’s identity.

He was desperately hoping it was that up and coming actress whose film was premiering that weekend. It’d be a nice break from the old men who wanted Texas to piss on them and give them footjobs. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but it got old pretty fast.

The first thing on Texas’s list was submitting his STI results to his mystery client’s representative. He was half-expecting her to reveal the person’s identity after that, but it was radio silence apart from the wire transfer that hit his bank a few days later. She hadn’t lied about the money, at least.

Texas was antsier than ever in the days leading up to the appointment, so much so that even his roommate commented on it. Texas just rolled his eyes and brushed off the comment with a half-assed excuse about waiting for a package in the mail. He tried to keep his personal and professional life from colliding as much as possible.

Thursday afternoon he received a list of supplies he was expected to bring with him to the hotel, along with instructions for getting to the room his client was staying in. Luckily, Texas was a professional—literally—and he already had everything on hand. Nothing was particularly outlandish either, which made him even more confused as to why there was so much secrecy involved. Impact play was practically par for the course.

The hotel was a particularly expensive one in the city-center that Texas had only visited once before at a client’s behest. They’d stayed on the fifth floor, in a normal room. His present mystery client was on the nineteenth.

He’d gotten his fair share of suspicious looks when he’d walked into the lobby with his duffel bag full of gear. Thankfully, he’d followed the instructions he’d received to the letter and made it to the elevators without incident. Texas didn’t think the hotel staff would look kindly on the implements he was bringing upstairs to their luxury suites.

His heart was in his throat when the elevator reached the nineteenth floor. It was quiet, a sharp contrast to the bustle downstairs in the lobby. He quickly walked down the hallway looking for the room his client was staying in, not wanting to be caught wandering around by either the staff or other guests. But when he found it, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to lift his hand to knock.

Texas hovered outside the door for nearly a minute, trying to talk himself into going through with it. His roommate already had instructions to call the police if he didn’t hear from Texas before midnight. The money was already in his bank account. He had to do this. It would be fine.

He gave the door a light tap.

The door opened a few seconds to reveal a rather non-descript brown-haired man with features just slightly too large for his pointed face. He was tall, maybe an inch or two taller than Texas, but he held himself at an odd angle, like he was unconsciously trying to make himself smaller. He was dressed casually, in pastel track pants and a white t-shirt. He didn’t look at all how Texas was expecting.

And yet when Texas continued to stare at his face, he suddenly felt a tug of recognition. It wasn’t until he’d walked into the glamorous penthouse suite behind the man that he realized just where he’d seen his face before.

Texas froze.

Harry Styles, international pop sensation, didn’t notice. “You’re Texas, right? Can I get you a glass of water?” he asked casually. He didn’t seem very nervous, but after a second glance, Texas could tell that his hands were a bit shaky. Maybe this was the first time he’d done something like this.

“Water would be nice, thanks.”

Styles turned sharply to glance at Texas over his shoulder. “My assistant didn’t mention you were American,” he said conversationally. He went over to the kitchen area without waiting for a response and quickly dispensed a glass of water. He handed it to Texas, who drank it in one nervous gulp.

“Is this your first time?” Texas asked, and he was proud of the fact that his voice didn’t so much as falter.

One of Styles’s eyebrows shot up. “Does that matter?”

Texas shrugged. “It’s just something I ask new clients so I can get a sense of what they need to know before we start.”

Styles hesitated a few seconds. “First time with a professional,” he answered vaguely.

Texas nodded. “Do you want to sit down while we go over things?”

Styles nodded and led Texas over to a little table in the corner. There was a folder already sitting on top, but Styles didn’t acknowledge it, and Texas didn’t ask. He figured if it was something he needed to know about, it would come up in the next few minutes.

Sitting didn’t help his nerves any. It took everything in his power not to tap his foot restlessly against the floor while he tried to figure out how to cater his usual spiel to someone who was a household name in entertainment.

Styles sighed, opening his mouth again before Texas had a chance to start. It was a big mouth, Texas noticed; he shuttered that thought away for later.

“I’d suggest that we talk things over dinner, but….”

Texas nodded in understanding. Wasn’t exactly the best idea to fill up on food right before sex, especially if it was something as intense as Texas had been led to believe Styles was expecting.

Styles. Harry Styles. They should discuss that before they moved onto the kink stuff, he thought.

“I feel like we should probably address the elephant in the room,” he said, deciding to just get it out there.

“Which is?” Styles seemed genuinely confused.

Texas waved his hand around vaguely. “I obviously know who you are. My sister had a poster of you on her wall until she graduated high school.”

A smile twitched at Styles’s lips. “Not a fan yourself, then?”

If Texas had been much of a blusher, the ensuing embarrassment would have turned his face fire-engine red. As it was, he merely shrugged and tried to keep his expression pleasantly neutral. “Boybands were never really my thing,” he confessed. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Styles replied with a laugh. “Is knowing who I am going to be a problem for you?”

“Isn’t it a problem for you?” The secrecy made sense now. It probably wouldn’t be good for Styles’s image if he were caught hiring a professional dom, even if his fanbase wasn’t primarily preteens any longer.

Styles slumped back in his chair and shrugged. “I know better than to expect anonymity. I don’t see the issue with it if you’re willing to sign an NDA. Which I would have asked for even if you hadn’t recognized me.”

“Of course.”

Styles slid the folder toward Texas. He opened it, skimmed the document inside, and reached for the pen lying next to it on the table without question. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t expected.

“All good?” he asked once it was signed.

Styles glanced it over. “Yeah. So…like I said. I’ve never done this professionally.”

Texas nodded. “Well, we should talk about your expectations, then. What you’re looking to get out of the session.”

Texas might not have been a blusher, but apparently Harry Styles was. His cheeks turned a rosy pink as he continued to stare down at Texas’s lazy scrawl at the bottom of the NDA. “I have a few…partners,” he admitted. “Some of them are more into playing than others, but.”

“But?”

“They’re all too…nice about it?”

“You want someone to be mean to you?” Texas questioned.

Styles finally lifted his eyes to meet Texas’s curious gaze. “Not mean, but, I want someone to hurt me. Really hurt me.” His voice was a bit more confident now, his gaze unflinching.

“I can do that.”

Texas was surprised when Styles’s eyes glazed over a bit at just the promise of more, but only for a second. He quickly collected himself, his expression returning to one of perfect neutrality.

“You have a pain kink, I’m guessing?” Texas continued, more curious now than anything. It wasn’t exactly information he needed to proceed, but Styles was probably the most interesting client he’d ever had. Probably the most interesting one he would ever have. When Styles nodded, he pushed for more. “Is it the concept of pain that gets you off, or does it actually feel good to you?”

“Both, I guess.” Styles seemed a bit embarrassed by his answer. “If the pain’s strong enough, it feels kind of like my brain’s shut itself off and my skin starts buzzing all over. I’ve gotten off just from that before.” He sounded proud. Texas wondered if he could push Styles that far in just one session.

“So you want to focus on impact play during our time together,” Texas assumed. The implements he’d been asked to bring were clue enough for that, but it was good to say it out loud so there would be no misunderstandings later.

“Yes.”

“Your assistant had me send over my STI results,” Texas continued, a bit more hesitantly now. He didn’t often have actual sex with his clients, and truth be told, he was a little more than intimidated by the idea now that he knew who he was dealing with. “Is sex something you’re expecting?”

“If it’s on the table,” Styles replied. There was a twitch in his jaw that belied his stony expression. He was every bit as nervous about this as Texas.

“Your partners won’t mind?” Texas inquired.

Styles shrugged. “You’re clean, they’re clean, I’m clean. It’s not really an issue beyond that.”

“Okay.” Texas was intrigued by the fact that Styles was apparently fucking multiple people regularly, but it wasn’t his place to pry. “Let’s go over dos and don’ts.”

“All right.”

“Spanking?”

“Yes.

“Flogging?”

“Yes.”

“Restraints?”

“Yes.”

“Marking?”

Styles hesitated. “Nothing permanent,” he decided. “And nothing that can’t be covered with clothes.”

“Okay,” Texas replied, making a mental note of it. “Are there any sexual acts you wouldn’t be comfortable with?”

Styles went a bit red again. “I’d rather bottom,” he said quietly.

“Of course.” Texas was a bit relieved to hear that. He’d bottom if the situation required it, of course, but it wasn’t something he really enjoyed all that much. “Any triggers?”

“What?” Styles seemed bewildered by the question.

“Anything specifically I should avoid saying or doing,” Texas elaborated.

“Oh.” Styles paused, considering. “It’s not really a trigger, but. Can you…could you maybe not touch my dick at all?”

“You don’t want to orgasm?” Texas asked, surprised by the request.

Styles flushed again. “I can come without it.” He sounded almost defensive; Texas decided not to pursue it further.

“If you change your mind about anything,” he said instead, “just tell me, okay?”

“Okay.” Styles seemed a little more unsure of himself now. Texas was worried about that.

“Just a few more questions,” Texas reassured him. “Do you want me to call you Harry while we’re playing, or something else?” He realized he’d been calling him Styles in his head, just because Harry felt so overly familiar for someone Texas only knew of through his sister and tabloid headlines, but last names weren’t really practical in bed.

“Just…H, I guess? Or ‘baby’.” He sounded like he was asking for permission, so Texas gave an encouraging nod.

“Is there something you’d prefer to call me besides my name? Daddy? Sir?”

Styles shook his head again, but he didn’t seem embarrassed by the question. “I’d rather not talk much, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Texas replied. He was surprised Styles hadn’t specified using a gag, but it was probably a bit much for a first-time experience. “You said your other partners wouldn’t hurt you,” Texas said, waiting for the nod of acknowledgment from Styles—no, H, he reminded himself, it was H now—before he kept going. “How far have you gone with them?”

“Spanking,” Harry replied. “A bit of paddling. All of them said they felt too bad to do much more than that. There was one guy who said he wanted to whip me, but we kind of fell out before we got around to it.”

Texas tried not to let his surprise or his curiosity show on his face. Professional. He needed to remain professional about this. “Where are the best places for me to hit you?” he asked.

If H was surprised by the frankness of the question, he didn’t react as such. “Anywhere below the waist,” he replied confidently.

That gave Texas a lot of room to work with. His mind was already whirring. Crafting a scene off the cuff like this wasn’t exactly his preferred method of doing things, but he’d had enough experience that he could work on the fly if he had to.

“Last thing: safeword?”

“Minnesota,” H replied without a second’s hesitation.

Texas laughed. “I hope you didn’t choose that because of my name.”

H grinned back. “No, it’s just a bit of an inside joke with myself. But surely your name’s not really Texas, is it?”

Texas shook his head. “Nah, but Texas suits me better than David, don’t you think?”

H nodded. “Definitely.”

“Ready to start?” Texas asked. He stood up from his chair and stretched, glancing down at H, who still hadn’t moved. “I can give you however long you need to get cleaned up.”

H blushed again. “Took care of it already,” he said, finally extracting himself from the chair.

He was all legs, Texas noticed again, long and gangly, and his body language was full of mixed signals as he wandered into the bedroom. He stripped easily right there in front of Texas, down to nothing at all before sitting primly at the foot of the bed.

Texas tried not to stare. “Would you like me to be naked as well?” he asked.

“Please.”

Texas nodded and quickly discarded his own clothes, setting them aside at H’s direction. It didn’t escape his notice the way H’s eyes lingered on him as he turned back around, carefully evaluating everything he had to offer. Texas wasn’t remotely ashamed of his body, but for some reason, H’s scrutiny felt more intense, like his eyes were stripping flesh from bone to get to what was underneath.

“Are we roleplaying?” Texas asked as he took a seat next to H on the bed. “Do you need to be punished?”

He was a bit surprised when H shook his head. “Want you to see how good I can be,” he said in a voice nearing an actual purr. So it was like that, then.

“Bend over,” Texas directed, showing H with his hand how he wanted the other man to lay across his lap. “Comfortable?” He smoothed a hand along H’s spine, tracing the curve of his ass where it met his thighs and making him shiver.

“Mhmm.”

Texas didn’t warn him before the first swat, but it was light, just a test. H hardly reacted at all; the jump a result of surprise rather than pain.

“Color?” Texas checked, just in case.

“Green.”

“Want you to tell me right away if you can’t take any more, okay, baby?” Texas wasn’t expecting H to react to just the term of endearment with a full-body shudder, but apparently the popstar was full of surprises.

“Okay.”

Texas petted H’s ass again and then lifted his hand for another quick strike with the flat of his palm across the middle of H’s left cheek. A red mark blossomed on H’s pale skin, but he didn’t even start this time, his body still and perfectly lax across Texas’s lap.

Texas hit him again, harder, in the exact same spot. This time H’s breathing quickened in response. Then again, on the opposite side. And again, alternating between. He kept at it until his own hand stung, but still H didn’t protest, nor react except for the slight wiggle of his hips as his cock struggled to harden from where it was trapped against Texas’s thighs.

Texas paused and reached out to pull gently at H’s hair, lifting his head enough that he could see the other man’s luminous green eyes. H looked half-asleep. Texas was bewildered. They’d barely started.

“Green?” he asked, testing.

“Green,” H replied, his tongue sounding thick in his mouth.

Texas had the feeling that H would let him spank his ass until he was black and blue, but that wasn’t in Texas’s plans for their night together. “Can you stand for me, baby?”

H nodded, but he leaned heavily on Texas’s hands as he climbed off Texas’s lap and slid back onto his feet instead. With H looming over him now, Texas could see the vacancy in his eyes. That wasn’t part of Texas’s plan either.

“We’re going to take a break for a minute,” Texas decided. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, okay?”

H obeyed wordlessly while Texas got up and busied himself with raiding the mini-fridge. It was well-stocked to his relief. Either the hotel supplied its better-paying guests with impeccable service, or Styles had known to come prepared. Texas grabbed a lemonade and a little plastic yogurt cup before returning to H, who was laid out shamelessly naked on top of the hotel duvet.

“Need you to come back to me for a minute,” Texas murmured softly as he helped H up into a sitting position, before pushing the food and drink into his hands. He watched him eat carefully, smiling a little at the way H stuck out his tongue before each bite.

After a couple minutes, and nearly half the bottle of lemonade, H started to seem more like himself again.

“You’re not chickening out on me, are you?” he said, still spooning the yogurt into his mouth as he spoke.

Texas shook his head. “Just want to clarify things.”

If he was being honest with himself, he could understand now why Styles’s partners all seemed so wary of actually hurting him. Even Texas, who literally did this for a living, felt some small part of him recoiling at the thought. He was just too charming. Texas did still want to wreck him, of course. But he also wanted to tuck him into a burrito blanket and spoon-feed him, and that was the scarier part.

“What things?” H asked. He still sounded apprehensive, like he wasn’t fully convinced Texas wasn’t about to run out on him.

“I can’t play a scene by ear if you start dropping five seconds into it,” Texas explained.

H’s cheeks reddened. “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing to apologize for. I just don’t want to hurt you on accident. Like, actually hurt you.”

H nodded at the clarification. Texas let him finish the yogurt and then took the empty container to the trash in the corner before going into his duffel back and pulling out everything he had planned to use during the course of their scene. He scanned H’s face for any sign of discomfort or distress, but only found mild interest.

“Have you used a cane or a crop before?” Texas asked.

H shook his head.

“Can you turn over for me? I want to make sure you’re okay with the sensation. It’s different than a hand, or a paddle.”

H scrambled to get on his knees. Texas was a bit awestruck by the implicit trust he had in a total stranger. He thought someone that famous would have been a little bit more worried about being taken advantage of, but the possibility didn’t seem to even exist in H’s mind.

“I want you to give me colors again, okay?” Texas waited for H to nod before hitting the inside of H’s thigh, careful not to clip his balls with the crop.

H jumped, but there was no sound until he said, very quietly, “Green.”

Texas nodded to himself and moved closer. His hand on H’s ass was tentative. He knew he had permission him to touch him like this, that it was an expected part of their agreement, but his subconscious hadn’t quite caught up yet. It felt like something forbidden.

The feeling was stronger when Texas spread H open to reveal his hole, not bare but still smooth, the hairs there almost baby-fine. Texas wanted to put his mouth on it, but he knew he needed to curb the impulse. Save it for later.

“Color?” Texas asked, tapping the crop gently, but meaningfully, against the sensitive skin of H’s crack.

“Green,” H replied, though his voice seemed shakier already.

Texas gave him no quarter when he swatted his hole with the crop. H nearly collapsed onto his face, just managing to hold himself up with his forearms planted firmly against the mattress. “Color?” Texas asked again.

“Green,” H gasped.

Texas set down the crop, satisfied. If the cane was too much, the crop would do the trick. “This is going to feel sharper,” Texas warned him as he picked up the thin, flexible cane. “Like a sting.”

H responded well to the impact of it against his inner thigh, opposite to where Texas had hit him with the crop. He let out a mangled gasp but managed to hold his position. His, “Green,” was throaty and raw, but clearly audible.

Texas lifted the cane and placed it back down tentatively over H’s hole. The riding crop must have hurt, but this would _really hurt_ , and he wasn’t sure H was actually ready for it. “Color?”

H hesitated.

“We can stick with the crop for the heavier stuff,” Texas assured him. “Biting can add a lot of extra sensation too, if that’s something you’re up for.”

H glanced back at him hopefully. “Biting’s good,” he said. “I like biting. But I still want to at least try the cane.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded, brows drawing together in an expression of concentrated determination before he dropped his head again, his whole body tensing in preparation for the blow.

The noise that came out of H’s mouth when the crop struck him directly over the center of his hole didn’t even sound human. He rocked forward, fingers twisting in the duvet. Texas could just barely make out the muffled, “Red,” between H’s mouth and the pillow his face was buried in.

“Okay, baby,” Texas said soothingly, taking care to rub the outside of H’s hips and thighs until he stopped shaking. “We’ll stick to the crop instead.”

H suddenly scrambled to sit up and face him. “You can still use it on my thighs,” he said hastily. “I liked it.”

“You’re sure?” Texas asked, surprised. H nodded enthusiastically, and Texas couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled out of him in response to his eager expression. “I guess the customer is always right,” he quipped. “Ready to start again?”

“Can I have some more water first?”

“Of course.” Texas handed him the bottle and watched closely while he drank. “You want to pee again first? Just in case?” Sometimes the client liked pissing themselves, but H didn’t exactly have any plastic sheeting lying around, so Texas was guessing that probably wasn’t the case here.

“Yeah, all right,” Harry agreed, even while his cheeks darkened. He hopped off the bed and sauntered over to the bathroom, Texas’s eyes on his ass all the while.

As soon as H was out of sight, the guilt set in.

There was no reason for Texas to feel like a stone had settled in the pit of his stomach. He’d done this hundreds of times, under much more brutal circumstances, and never once had he felt like this. Maybe it was the familiarity, however slight, or maybe just the fact that something about Harry Styles made Texas want to protect him from all the ills of the world—not introduce him to entirely new ones.

But Texas was a professional.

He reminded himself over and over of that fact until H came out again; still naked, still soft. Texas planned to change that soon.

“Ready to keep going?” Texas asked.

H nodded as he approached the bed. He knelt down again in the same position he’d been in before: ass up, thighs spread wide enough for Texas to get between them with a crop—or cane, as H had requested.

“Yellow if you need a break,” Texas reminded him before picking up the cane again.

Texas tapped the outside of H’s thighs first. Hard, rhythmic strokes like the steady beat of someone’s hearth, the cane letting out a quiet whistle as it cut through the air. Through it all, H remained silent, his hands clenched into fists at the head of the bed.

He was being good, so good, and he deserved to be told as much.

“Doing so well, baby,” Texas praised. “Keeping so still, just taking everything I give you.”

H shuddered without even a touch. Texas gave him one anyway, sweeping a careful hand up the inside of his thigh to his hole, rubbing over it with intent before drawing his hand away. H whined at the abrupt absence and reflexively tried to rock back against nothing before stopping himself.

Texas switched the cane back to his right hand and lashed out again, this time striking the backs of H’s thighs, fast and brutal. He kept at it until they were streaked red, welts forming quickly across the petal-pink skin, and then he adjusted the angle so the cane connected with H’s inner thighs again instead.

The noises streaming out of H’s mouth were somewhere between a grunt and a sob. He clearly couldn’t hold back the sounds as his whole body quaked with each impact of the cane against his skin.

Texas was still impressed with H’s control despite the reactions he was managing to force out, and he wanted more.

“Face against the pillow so you’re comfortable,” Texas instructed as he set the cane down and picked up the crop instead. “Reach back and hold yourself open for me.”

He could see H’s cheeks bleeding scarlet as he pulled his cheeks open to expose himself fully, but Texas didn’t acknowledge the embarrassment for fear of breaking the immersion they’d settled into. He trusted H enough to use his safeword if he really needed it.

“If you’re good,” Texas told him, swishing the crop through the air a few times just for show, “I’ll let you come. Lick you open till you can’t stand it.” If H’s choked-off sob was anything to go by, he really liked that idea. “Five spanks, okay? Want you to count them.”

“One,” H hissed as the crop slapped down directly on his hole. His nails dug into the flesh of his ass, but he managed to keep still.

“Two.” His grip tightened. Texas wanted to lick over the indents in his skin once this was over.

“Th-three.” His hole was blooming a bright crimson before the crop even hit his skin, harder this time than the two before it.

On the fourth, H let out a strangled scream and pitched forward, rolling onto his back before Texas could say a word in reprimand. He was hard against his belly despite the tear-tracks in his eyes, and he hadn’t worded out, so Texas forced himself to maintain a stony expression as H gasped for air, torn between staying on his back to shield himself from anymore blows, and turning over to his front to relieve the pressure on his aching ass and thighs.

“I promised you could come if you were good for me,” Texas said coolly. “But you weren’t good, were you, baby?”

H shook his head frantically. “No,” he cried, “I’m sorry.”

“Back into position,” Texas ordered. “You still owe me four and five.”

For a moment, Texas thought Styles was going to call it quits, that he’d pushed him too far. But then he slowly scooted back into position, his hands trembling this time when he spread himself knowing exactly what he was in for.

The final two hits were swift and punishing, with barely a second for H to catch his breath between them. When it was over, Texas placed a gentle hand on the small of H’s back to let him know he was still there.

“Relax,” he instructed, and H crumpled into an exhausted heap on top of the duvet.

Texas drew his hand back, intending to return to his bag for additional supplies, only to have H’s head jerk up in response, his eyes watering as he stared up at Texas with a forlorn expression. “Please,” he whined quietly, and it took Texas a minute to register what he was asking for.

“I asked you to be good for me,” Texas said as he loomed over Harry, crop and cane bundled in one hand at his side. “Were you good?”

“No,” H replied tearily.

“Then you don’t get your reward.” Texas turned away without waiting for H’s reaction. He rummaged around his bag for a moment before returning with a couple pairs of Velcro cuffs and a tube of lubricant, the latter of which he set down pointedly on the nightstand next to H’s head. He held the restraints out for H to briefly examine. “Color?”

H squinted at the cuffs as if trying to figure out what they were for. “Green,” he replied easily. The raw edge to his voice had all-but vanished. Texas intended to put it right back.

“Relax,” Texas urged again as he climbed up onto the bed behind H. He carefully positioned H’s head on the pillow with his face tilted to one side, making sure his mouth and nose were unobstructed before moving down his body to his ankles.

Texas pushed H’s knees up and pulled his wrists back, forcing him to lay on his face with his back arched, ass high in the air. He cuffed the left side first, wrist to ankle, before moving to the right.

“Comfortable?” Texas asked when he was finished.

“Yes?” H sounded unsure of himself.

Texas moved back around to put their faces together. “Want you to be as comfortable as possible for this next bit,” he said encouragingly. He stroked a hand through H’s hair and watched as H’s eyes fluttered shut.

It made it so much better somehow, being able to build H up like this before completely dismantling him. Texas wanted there to be nothing left when they were done. It seemed like that was what H wanted, too.

“Gonna use my mouth now,” Texas said in warning before he crawled back around behind H, taking in the sight of his ass, already used beyond comprehension. His hole, in particular, was red and swollen as if he’d been fucked for hours, and Texas hadn’t even gotten a chance to open him up yet. “Color?” he asked again as he thumbed over the tender flesh.

H bucked futilely against his restraints. “Green,” he gasped. “Green, please.”

Texas hadn’t expected to be the one feeling overwhelmed when he finally got his mouth on H, but that’s exactly what happened. He laved the welts on the inside of H’s thighs with his tongue, worshipping them even while he was making H vibrate from the pain and the overstimulation.

He bit down hard just above the crease of his knee, leaving an indentation of his teeth, and then repeated it on the other side, constructing a haphazard ladder of ruddy bruising up H’s thighs. When he reached the swell of H’s ass, he nipped lightly at the raw skin, making H yelp.

By the time Texas pulled back to check on him, H was sobbing, big fat tears and a steady stream of drool staining the hotel pillowcase underneath his head. Texas contemplated cleaning it up but decided to leave it. H could breathe, and he could speak, and Texas refused to let this bizarre impulse to treat H like he was made of glass direct the progression of their scene.

“Color?” Texas asked, still rubbing at H’s inner thighs to keep him overstimulated and shaking. There would be no more pauses from this point unless H decided to word out.

“Green,” H whined, and that was all the permission Texas needed.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Texas ordered before pulling H’s cheeks apart and diving right into the center of him with his mouth and tongue, licking at him sloppily as he endeavored to coax him open as quickly as possible.

H reacted just as Texas had hoped: squirming in his restraints, barely able to keep himself upright even with Texas’s steady hands braced against his ass. He was crying again, this time letting out a high-pitched wail as Texas tongue-fucked him mercilessly, refusing to let Harry squirm away from the overwhelming sensations of pleasure and pain assaulting him.

Only when H’s lower body started to lock up, a low hum emanating from the back of his throat, did Texas start to slow down. He wanted to drag this out for as long as possible, surprised at how hungry he was for it, how much he wanted to stay there on his knees with his tongue buried in H’s ass and never leave.

But even at a slower pace, H was still vibrating from the conflicting sensory information, his brain translating all of it into a rush of endorphins that flooded his body.

Texas could feel H clenching up around his tongue before he even got the words out in a choked whisper. “Gonna…come…. Please.”

Texas pulled away abruptly, leaving H a shivering mess as he collapsed. The contortion of his body in the cuffs left his ass still pointed up toward Texas, making a tantalizing target after he reached for the lube on the nightstand and slicked up his fingers with it.

He made short work of stretching H out, ignoring the yowls emanating from his throat as Texas carefully pried him open. When H was open enough, Texas pulled out, ran a lube-coated palm over his own erection just long enough to be satisfied that he wouldn’t hurt H, before pushing back in with his cock.

H let out a muffled scream, turning his face instinctively into the pillow. Texas hunched over him and grabbed at his hair, pulling his face back to the side so he could see H’s red-rimmed eyes, his swollen mouth.

“Need to let me hear you, baby,” Texas urged as he slowly buried himself to the hilt inside H’s body.

H was panting, shivering, like a vibrating cocksleeve around Texas, but Texas remained perfectly still, his hips pressed flush against H’s ass. It was an exercise in restraint on his part to keep from moving, to stop himself from listening to the primal instincts telling him to fuck in and out of that tight heat until he was spent, but this wasn’t about him. It was about H. It was about ruining him.

“Baby,” Texas said softly as he traced a finger along the column of H’s spine, “want you to make me come, okay? Show me how good you can be.” He allowed his hand to travel up to H’s neck before twisting his fingers in H’s hair, holding on lightly, waiting for a reaction.

H let out a quiet sound of confusion. “I don’t…” he started to say, prompting Texas to yank on his hair viciously.

H’s hole tightened up around Texas as a reflexive reaction to the pain, squeezing him from base to tip, and it was a fight for Texas to keep his hips frozen in place.

“Just like that,” Texas groaned. “So good, baby, you’re so tight.”

H gasped softly and clenched down again, this time on purpose, like he was investigating Texas’s reaction to determine what exactly had caused it.

“Yeah, baby,” Texas encouraged. “Keep going. Make me come.”

H keened at the realization of what he was expected to do and tried it again, squeezing tighter this time. “Hurts,” he cried out as he relaxed his muscles, panting hard underneath Texas’s broad body.

“You can do it, baby,” Texas cajoled, rubbing his free hand along H’s sides, pulling briefly at his nipple just to savor the little hiccupping gasp H let out as a result. “I know you can. So close already just from looking at you, what I did to you, how fucking wrecked you are.”

It must have been agonizing for H to milk Texas’s cock with his sore and abused hole, but that only made him harder, every little pained whimper that came out of H’s mouth hitting Texas like a punch to the gut.

“I’m so close,” Texas grunted a few minutes later. H sounded like he could barely breathe as he continued to squeeze down on Texas’s cock, and Texas was ready to show him some mercy. He reached down to grab his own balls, massaging them tightly as H kept at it, reinvigorated by the praise. “So close, baby, keep going. Keep going.”

H let out a long drawn out whine of frustration and kicked his hips back. The friction was just enough to push Texas over the edge, and he collapsed on top of H’s back with a loud groan, reaching up instinctively to grope at H’s chest.

Texas twisted at H’s nipples hard, almost as an afterthought, while he was still pumping come into the trembling heat of H’s body. H screamed, thrashing around wildly underneath Texas and nearly throwing him off.

Texas pulled out quickly, too distracted by H’s reaction to fully appreciate the steady trickle of come leaking from his puffy hole, and then turned H over onto his side to make sure he was okay.

He was more than, if the blissed-out expression on his face and the streaks of come running from his butterfly tattoo all the way up to the swallows on his chest were anything to go by. For a moment, Texas wasn’t sure how to react. He hadn’t even anticipated the possibility of H coming untouched just from being filled up with cock and having his nipples played with, but that’s what had happened, and now they both had to deal with the consequences.

“Did I say you could come?” Texas demanded, forcing H’s eyes to shoot open again in panic.

“No,” H whispered. He shook his head frantically. “I didn’t mean to.”

“But you did,” Texas scolded. “You came all over yourself, got yourself all dirty.” He slid a finger through the mess covering H’s trembling belly and lifted it to H’s mouth, pushing the come-coated finger between H’s lips and letting him clean it with his tongue. “And now you’re going to come for me again.”

H jerked hard in his hold. “Can’t,” he replied automatically. His eyelids hung heavy and his pupils were blown wide despite the light permeating the room.

Texas smiled, pleased by the reaction, and gently pinched H’s chin between his thumb and index finger. “You can,” he told H. “I know you can. We’re not finished playing, baby. Need you to come one more time.”

H nodded feebly, his eyes finally drifting shut again.

Texas quickly evaluated the logistics of getting H back onto his knees, but he didn’t think H’s shaking limbs could take much more. Texas quickly uncuffed him instead and placed a clean pillow down in the center of the bed, carefully rolling H face-down so his hips were aligned perfectly with the pillow. He made sure to prop H’s head up on his forearms, giving him room to breathe before Texas took his place again between H’s spread thighs.

This time, Texas got his fingers back inside H’s hole, the goal was pleasure for pleasure’s sake. He located H’s prostate quickly, pressing into the gland with two fingers using just his own come and what was left of the lube to ease the penetration.

H yelped at the sensation, which must have been literal torture so soon after coming, but he barely moved, a testament to just how thoroughly Texas had wrecked him beforehand.

Texas’s fingers started an insistent rhythm against the gland, rocking down on every outstroke until H was choking and crying, practically gagging from the spit pouring out of his mouth. He was a fucking mess and Texas loved it.

“Need you to come for me, baby,” Texas insisted as he dragged his fingers over H’s prostate, again and again, letting him squirm minutely against the pillow to get just that little bit of friction against his cock. “Come on, I know you can.”

“Can’t,” H gasped, but Texas could tell he was almost there.

He changed the pace, moving his fingers in slow circles instead of fucking H with them, pushing harder and harder as he spiraled around H’s prostate, forcing the come out of him.

H’s arms tensed up as he choked out a sound like a dying animal. Texas could see every muscle in his back and thighs flexing, and then between his legs, a pool of come slowly spilling down from the pillow and onto the sheets. Texas kept up the motion of his fingers until H’s morbid cries morphed into hacking gasps instead, and then he stopped altogether, giving it another moment before he carefully drew his fingers out.

Texas stared down at his handiwork and fisted his cock, startled by how easy it was to get hard again after he’d just come. He spilled for the second time in watery spurts across H’s bruised ass and thighs before pushing right up against his destroyed, gaping hole and sinking easily inside. He stayed there, draped across H’s back until the aftershocks subsided, and then pulled out again, his head buzzing from the sudden rush of dopamine that accompanied a successful scene.

“Can you talk?” Texas asked as he rolled to the side, careful still to maximize the amount of skin contact between them as he waited for H to come back to himself. Or maybe he was Harry now that Texas was no longer thinking of taking him apart.

Harry let out a muted grunt.

“Okay,” Texas replied. He rubbed at Harry’s back and pressed his own forehead to the sweaty nape of Harry’s neck, drinking in the smell of him. It wasn’t a good smell, but Texas’s adrenaline-drunk brain needed it like air, needed the grounding presence of a body against him as he rode out his high.

This was why he liked domming so much. The feeling of control, of power, overwhelming him to the point of pure euphoria. His head felt like there was a swarm of bees swirling around inside his skull. He could only imagine it was a fraction of what Harry must have been experiencing.

“You get five more minutes of cuddles and then I’m getting water for both of us,” Texas told him as he continued to gently caress Harry’s skin—the bits of it that were still safe to touch, that is. He wasn’t sure how Harry was planning to sit down for at least the next week.

“Apple juice?” Harry questioned a bit incoherently in response.

Texas was surprised that he could even muster up words yet. “Right now?”

“Mhmm.”

Texas hopped up out of bed and marched over to the mini-fridge, grabbing a bottle of water for himself and an apple juice for Harry. He snatched a bag of what looked like some kind of cookies as well, figuring a little solid food wouldn’t hurt.

“We should get you cleaned up when you’re finished,” Texas suggested as he sat back down next to Harry again.

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t move, as it turned out.

Texas had to help Harry turn over onto his back. Once Harry was propped up against the pillows, wincing with every slight shift against the sheets, he allowed Texas to help him eat and drink, finishing both the juice and cookies in just a few minutes.

Texas gulped his own bottle of water down as soon as Harry was finished, chugging it quickly so they could get cleaned up faster.

The atmosphere felt charged in an entirely unexpected way when Texas helped Harry into the shower. Usually, unless it was someone Texas had developed an existing relationship with, aftercare with his clients felt clinical. Gently soaping Harry’s thighs and back didn’t feel that way, though. There was just something about Harry.

Texas was still surprised though when he slowly spun Harry around to do his chest and stomach only to have Harry’s lips gently covering his, coaxing him into responding in kind. He did, for a long moment, and then pulled away to look at Harry quizzically.

“That’s not…not allowed, is it?” Harry asked in a slow voice.

Texas just smiled and kissed him again, because it felt nice, and Harry felt nice, and god he was going to be depressed knowing that this was never going to happen again. He couldn’t possibly imagine anything better than this now that he’d had it. Harry Styles was a blessing and a curse, all wrapped up in one.

Harry could walk again when the water finally went cold and prompted them to step out of the shower, but Texas carefully guided him back to bed as though he were still an invalid. Harry crawled on top of the fresh sheets—Texas had thrown the messy duvet and the ruined pillows into the far corner of the room—and laid on his side, looking expectantly up at Texas, who had yet to join him.

Texas wasn’t quite sure if he should, but he couldn’t make himself leave either.

“I’ve got some lidocaine gel in my bag if you want me to put it on,” Texas suggested instead. “Or I can leave it here for you to use yourself once you’re feeling up to it. God knows you paid me enough for me to just buy another one.”

Harry huffed out a laugh. “I’d rather you do it, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

Texas climbed into bed behind him and sat down with his legs crossed as Harry settled into a more agreeable position, spreading his legs while Texas squeezed out a pea-sized dollop of the numbing gel onto his finger.

“You know, you don’t have to technically stay the night,” Harry said out of nowhere as Texas carefully applied the gel around the swollen rim of his hole. His fists were clenched tight at the edges of the pillow, the only sign that he was experiencing any discomfort at all. “I’ll still pay you for the whole night.”

“And what if I want to stay?” Texas blurted out, surprising even himself with the words.

There was a precariously long moment before Harry replied. “Good,” he said finally. “I don’t want you to leave.”

And that’s how they ended up in bed together again, Harry falling fast asleep within just minutes of getting settled with his head against Texas’s chest. Texas just stared at him for a long time, unwilling to try and fall asleep himself when he knew the sooner he did, the sooner the night would be over, but finally, exhaustion dragged him under.

Texas woke early the next morning to the smell of fresh dough and hot coffee. “Berliners?” he questioned as he peered through one eye at the baked goods sitting next to him on the bed.

“When in Berlin,” came Harry’s muffled voice.

Texas lifted his head to get a better look at him, finding Harry with half a Berliner already stuffed into his face, looking more undignified and adorable than any global celebrity had the right to.

“You’re so cute,” Texas said sleepily, unable to keep the words in thanks to his current state of half-consciousness.

“Thank you,” Harry replied politely. “You are, too. Um, I actually have to go soon, but, I’ve left you my phone number on the nightstand, and I’d really like it if we could do something like this again the next time I’m in the city.” He looked hopeful, but apprehensive, like he was genuinely worried Texas would tell him no.

As if he could.

“Yeah, all right,” Texas replied through a yawn. He stretched out lazily and blinked up at Harry, who was still munching away at his pastry. “I’ll have to make sure to listen to your album next time,” he remarked with a soft smile. “So you can quiz me on my favorite songs.”

Harry flushed. “Well, if you don’t like it, please lie to me. Actually, no. Just tell me if you hate it, really.”

Texas laughed and sat up to kiss the crumb-flecked frown off of Harry’s face. “Pretty sure it’ll exceed expectations,” he said. _Just like you_.


End file.
